Chapter 243: Metal Gear (1/2)
“There is.” Goliath said in the usual whisper and moved over to the water tank. Its hand raised up and aimed at the stone wall next to it before energy gathered in a dark orb, shooting out a second later. The blast completely obliterated the wall. A rune glowed near the wall and the fresh air was cut off immediately, likely because the airflow was not to be disturbed.
Ilea nodded and spread her wings, looking down into the abyss. They were situated somewhere near the waist of the massive stone statue on whose shoulders and decapitated neck the town of Hallowfort had been built. It was still a couple hundred meters down to the water. Two of her ashen limbs moved over to the container and unhooked it from the metal piece it hung from. Goliath’s golden eyes were focused on her during the whole process, Ilea just looking back and winking at the smith before she flew out, the container dragged by the ash’s strength alone.
Letting herself fall, she took in the crystal light that illuminated the world below the wasteland. Stone and water mostly, little vegetation likely because the suns didn’t reach down here at all. The water reached further than her eyes could see, more an underground sea than just a lake. The crystals reflected on the water surface when she reached it, glistening in their unending brilliance. Holding onto the massive bucket with all her ashen limbs, she flew it sideways and dunked it into the water, slowly lowering it afterwards.
It filled up quickly, Ilea noticing some dark shapes in the water deep below. Fishies coming to play? But the bucket was full and she didn’t want to damage Goliath’s tools just because of her curiosity. Later, much later if I’m honest. My water trauma is too recent. Using all the strength in her ash and wings, she pulled the container up. The statue reached high towards the ceiling of the cave, a person with two arms and legs, hands held together as if praying or meditating.
Heaving the huge bucket back inside, she carefully hung it back where she had taken it from, noticing the change in temperature immediately upon entering. Some of the water already started to steam. “It’s already going, shouldn’t I hang it outside where it’s cooler?” She asked when the smith turned, again focused on her.
It didn’t speak for a whole thirty seconds, “I must ask young human. Are you a child of ash?”
She was a little confused, especially because more of the water was already evaporating, “I’m an ash creator if that is what you mean. Your water?”
“Do not mind the water. I thank thee for bringing it. Truly, one touched by ash. I was not sure when I saw but now. It is an honor.” It said and bowed a little.
Ilea nodded and looked at the water tank again. “The runes do not use liquid water alone, simply the element around it. Be it in the air or in the tank. Once there are insufficient resources available the ice machines will stop working.” The smith explained and she nodded. “You would not be able to summon ash at all without first burning wood or something else. An enigma, to write runes with the capability to create. A mystery for another life perhaps, another time.”
“Why do you think it’s that special, ash creation I mean. I would assume many elves as well as humans can create elements through magic, ash as well.” Ilea suggested.
The smith moved to pour her second set of armor, activating the ice runes exactly three minutes later to rapidly cool it down again. “Ash…,” It started, separating the mold and putting each piece into new containers with the liquid from before. Not water but something that looked more sluggish. “… it is connected with death. Unattainable for those not close to it. Those who have experienced the dreads of magic, suffered and prevailed. It is said that they are the ones chosen by ash. Or the ones understanding the natural element, depending on philosophy and theory applied. You will find that many like myself will come to acknowledge your mana and its ability to create.”
Its explanation made sense, Ilea remembering some of the requirements that had let her class evolve into Ash Wielder initially. Come to think of it there must be religions based around certain elements or schools of magic as well. The healing orders are one thing but maybe the magic domains Elfie mentioned? Maybe there’s an ash thing too with dark ones like Goliath.
Fishing out the pieces that had been finished first, the smith put them on a work bench and dried them off the strange liquid with a towel. Taking a massive two handed hammer, the smith swung down, magic dancing around the hammer head before it impacted hard on the chest plate. A ring resounded and the hammer was rebounded a little, the force traveling through the smith as it held the more weapon than tool steady in its two massive arms. “Test it if you like but purely physically it holds up.”
Ilea nodded before she took the breast plate and put it on the ground. “Damaging the floor ok?” She asked, looking up at the smith.
“Please do.” It replied, eyes dancing in the darkness.
Ilea smiled and crouched down with a punch, her skills flaring up and five hundred health vanishing to activate her state’s third tier. Her fist hit, a small shock wave sending the air around her away as the steel armor cracked into the stone below. Neither her arm nor the armor showed any damage, the stone floor losing out as the weakest link. “Seems usable, wonderful work.” Ilea said, grabbing the piece and ripping it out of the ground, cracks visible where it had entered. She quickly identified the pieces.
[Rose HunterArmor Helm – Rare Quality]
[
“Very nice. Any idea about enchantments? My previous stuff had lightening and durability on it.”
Checking one of the pieces the smith made a noise, “Rare, perhaps with better metal and your mold I might be able to forge you a set of ancient quality. There is no enchanter here worthy of mention. That dwarf who brought you here might be able to help but I suggest you look for someone more dedicated to the craft.”
Ilea nodded, “I doubt these sets will hold up very long so maybe quick and dirty is enough right now. Do you know if he is a bad enchanter or why would you not recommend his work?”
The smith put the third set into the forge, “I do not know if he has any talent at all. They like to use their war machines, enchanting is always necessary. Yet those actually using their machines are rarely the ones best at enchanting itself.”
She nodded and thought about it, “I’ll go ask him then. Maybe he can recommend someone as well.”
“Do that young one. I will be done in three hours, the coating will take another two.” It said before continuing its work.
Ilea nodded, “I’ll be back then.” Taking back her Ashen Hunter armor, she switched to it and blinked out of the room, back into the corridor. Walking up, a feline looking humanoid with a tail nearly ran into her, vanishing before her eyes. Did he steal anything? Wait, that’s racist. Nothing was amiss and she walked back up to find Terok’s house again.
Finding the dwarf inside, tinkering on his machine Ilea knocked on the door and waited. “Who is it?”
“Your new friend.” Ilea said and smiled behind her helmet when he opened the door.
The dwarf motioned her to sit on a worn chair in what looked like his kitchen. She had to duck a little to have space. Only the entryway was big enough for what was essentially his mech suit. “I’ll be with ya in a minute.” He grumbled, putting on a goggle on his non mechanical eye before sparks shot outwards. “Fucking shit. Dreaded cursed limp son of a bitch.” He grumbled before chucking his tool at the opposite wall.
Ilea folded her legs and took of her battered helmet, smiling at the dwarf, “Anything amiss?”
“Oh not particularly.” He said and walked over to a box, taking out a bottle of something. She could tell there was a cooling rune on the crate. “Want one too? I don’t have anything more fancy than the ale from down the street. Not the worst I’ve had.”
“Gladly.” Ilea replied. He laughed and threw her a bottle.
“Didn’t strike me as no lady. Back so soon, did the old mystery blob work with ye?”
The question made her smile as she looked at the label on her bottle, the thing nearly coming off already. ‘Bleaker’s ale’ She removed the cork and took a sip. “He did, or she? Whatever. My armor’s pretty battered so I was thinking of getting it reforged. Problem is, the old smith isn’t exactly an enchanter. Heard you lot do that with your machines. Any experience in the trade?”
The dwarf nodded and sat down, taking a swig from his bottle of ale too. “Some, I would suggest someone better but there hardly is anybody here. Enchanters aren’t usually the best fighters and you need to be good or sneaky to survive here.” He pointed at her, “The smith is an exception. Fucker’s been here for longer than the very statue you’re standing on I wager.”